


In Case Of Death

by TremblingHandsWriting



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Homophobia, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Other, Self-Acceptance, Tragedy/Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25278298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TremblingHandsWriting/pseuds/TremblingHandsWriting
Summary: To anyone reading this:First of all, this is in no way a suicide note. I just thought a handwritten letter is a cool thing to be left behind when I’m gone. I do this just for the aesthetics, okay?
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun & Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Oh Sehun, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Original Female Character(s), Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. A handwritten letter is a cool thing to be left behind.

_15th of July, 2020_

_To anyone reading this:_

_First of all, this is in no way a suicide note. I just thought a handwritten letter is a cool thing to be left behind when I’m gone. I do this just for the aesthetics, okay?_

_Second of all, if you somehow found this note while emptying my apartment, you must have found the tin cookie box it was in along with an envelope of money. It’s enough money for two months’ rent. Please pass the money to my landlord; she has been nothing but an angel to me for all the years I’ve lived in this building, and with how the economy is right now it must be hard for her to find a new tenant so soon. Also, tell her that I’m going to miss her homemade kimchi so much._

_Next, please call this number: 0XX-XXXX-XXXX. Let them know that Kim Junmyeon is deceased. They are the only person left from my family that are still willing to speak to me without yelling or, you know, calling me names, so just let them know about what happened, and they’ll know what to do._

_…tell them I’m sorry too._

_Anyways, given the kind of person I am, I won’t have a lot of friends to visit me for my funeral. And no I did not live a sad life; instead, I lived a good one with these few good people who were sticking around me. But I do want to give one final respect to some of the people from my past, so here is the list._

_In case of death, please invite these people to Kim Junmyeon’s funeral party:_

  1. **_Oh Sehun_**
  2. **_Kim Eun Ae_**
  3. **_Byun Baekhyun_**
  4. **_Do Kyungsoo_**
  5. **_Park Baram_**
  6. **_(To be decided)_**



_And that’s it! To whomever that found this letter (and at the time of me writing this, no matter how many years have passed I’m hoping it’s going to be you, Wu Yifan) please do all of these things I’ve listed or I’ll haunt you until you die._

_Kidding! But seriously though, it’s literally my last wish don’t be so cruel to me okay?_

_Thank you! I love you!_

_Yours Truly,_

**_The Handsome Kim Junmyeon._ **

****

_P/S: I’m writing this while listening to you snoring next to me, and honestly love, I love you too much to make fun about it. :P_


	2. You're so brave for letting me know that you love me first.

“Do you remember the day you confessed to me?” Junmyeon suddenly asked as soon as he sat down in front of the couch Yifan was sitting on in the living room. His hair smelled like lavender and was wet, and without a word, Yifan put his phone down, took the towel that was hung carelessly on Junmyeon’s shoulder and proceeded to dry his hair. The television was showing a rerun of a famous cooking show that they both hated.

“I would like to erase that embarrassing memory out of my mind, but unfortunately I can’t,” he teased, and almost instantly received a light smack on his knee.

“Rude,” Junmyeon added, pouting.

“Just like your reaction on that day,” Yifan replied without missing a beat; his hands on Junmyeon’s head were getting a little rough as if he was trying to suppress some grudge. Junmyeon turned around and stared at his lover for a while, and Yifan, not backing out, was already staring back. This went on for almost a minute before snorting sounds started to emerge from the pair, and the room was filled with laughter only a second later. Junmyeon, in his halted breath from the laugh and teary eyes, pulled Yifan’s face closer to his and kissed him on his lower lip. Yifan smiled into the kiss and returned it with equal tenderness.

“I wasn’t ready okay?” Junmyeon said, pulling away from a little from the kiss but not fully. His lips were still too close that Yifan could taste his breath on his nose and cheeks, to the point that the only reasonable thing to do was to kiss them again, and that was exactly what Yifan did.

“Hmm…okay. At least you didn’t say no to my confession. Despite the wine stain sprayed from your mouth couldn’t be washed off so easily on my satin dress suit,” Yifan conceded, still a little begrudgingly. Junmyeon laughed, kissed him again and this time he finally climbed up onto the couch to straddle on Yifan’s laps with his arms around his lover’s neck.

“Told you not to wear white when you’re dining with me.”

“I’ve stopped wearing white ever since then.”

Junmyeon scrunched his nose and then bit Yifan’s left cheek without a warning, and that made him yelp. Junmyeon then rests his entire body on top of his tall lover, burying his nose in the crook of his neck and took a deep, deep breath. Almost five minutes passed by in silence, and Yifan enjoyed moments like this so much. Listening to Junmyeon’s heartbeat sounds had become his favourite thing to do as of late: they grounded him and assured him that Junmyeon was there, alive and breathing in his arms.

In that moment alone, Junmyeon belonged just to him.

“You’re so brave for letting me know that you love me first.” A warm peck on his Adam’s apple.

“M-hmm. I know.” Yifan played with Junmyeon’s now dampen hair, deciding whether he should continue drying them or not. He decided he’ll do that after a few more minutes.

“All my life, I’ve only ever confessed once.”

“That’s surprising.”

“Why so?”

“You fall in love with almost everyone you meet,” Yifan teased him again, and this time Junmyeon just hummed in agreement.

Another long minute of comfortable silence, before Junmyeon opened his mouth again.

“Aren’t you curious? About the person I’ve confessed to?” he finally asked, and Yifan closed his eyes as he nodded.

*

Yifan opens his eyes and curses underneath his breath.

“For fuck’s sake, Kim Junmyeon.”

The sea of people in front of him almost make him cowers in fear, especially when he sees a few young teenage girls with sweat-dampened shirts hogging a couple of paper bags filled with rolls of posters and merchandises running past him.

Being among people scares him, and Yifan can testify that a huge number of them in one place can only have a negative impact on him. He already feels cold sweats dripping down his forehead, and the heat of the summer this time is starting to get to him, despite being in an air-conditioned hotel hall like this one.

There are endless lines of people sitting on both sides of the hallway, leaning against the walls with the sounds of their chatters bouncing within the space. Yifan walks past them, carefully observing and after a few minutes, he figures that he might have been staring a little too long at small groups formed along these lines that he receives a wave of judgmental looks from them. Awkwardly, he fixes his gaze onto his dull pair of black shoes and continues his walk until he reaches a barrier made of long chains wrapped in velvety cloth spreads horizontally in front of a huge door. Yifan is pretty sure he’s standing directly in front of the venue where the meet and greet of the artist he is looking for is about to be held in the next hour.

“I’m guessing you’re a reporter?” a small young lady, just a few inches above his waist in height with round eyes and pouty lips suddenly appears before him, and Yifan yelps a little too loud. In the short minute, Yifan is trying to process the reason of why she’s talking to him, and she’s already yelling a few profanities into the headset she has on her head. Her high ponytail swings aggressively when she turns her head sometimes, observing the fan-filled hall. In her hands are a buzzing walkie-talkie and a booklet filled with lists of names – probably the media invited for the event. She isn’t even looking at the tall, pale man in front of her.

“Can I get your name?” she asks again when Yifan doesn’t seem to give her the response she expected.

“My name?” Yifan replies, and to this the girl finally looks up from her printouts of name lists, only to see a tall guy in a black suit. His hair is a little messy – not bedhead, but more like a pair of devastated hands were run through it earlier before carelessly trying to fix it back – and the hollows in his cheeks are too evident to be ignored.

“Oh. Ah. I’m sorry, I thought you’re here for the meet and greet. If you’re not here for the event, please exit the space, sir, or security will be alerted, thank you,” she says in a monotone, focus returns to the printouts in hand and is already turning on her heels when Yifan grabs her shoulders. Her petite body is jolted backwards, and Yifan can feel her muscles tense underneath his palms.

“Actually…I’m here to see him—” he starts but is immediately cut off by the girl.

“Everyone is, sir. That’s why they bought tickets for it,” she replies, and Yifan can see her hand is already reaching for her walkie-talkie. In less than a few minutes, a couple of burly security crews will come and escort him out of the place; Yifan is pretty sure of it. So he has to think quick.

“Wait! Please, wait. Just…can you give him _this_?” he pleads, one hand still on the girl’s shoulder while the other is frantically searching for something from the inside of his jacket. The girl is staring at him with wary eyes; her fingers are still tightly gripping the walkie-talkie, but she isn’t dialling anyone in.

“Just hand this to him, please,” Yifan continues as he produces a blue, crumpled envelope without any addresses, except for a name written on it. She takes the envelope from his hand, reads the name written on it and then hands it back to him – this time her only facial expression is just pure annoyance.

“…you can pay one of the fans to bring it to him during the event—”

“It’s not a fan letter.” He cuts her off sharply, and she’s visibly taken aback.

“Then what is it?” she is now fully alarmed, and in his head, Yifan can almost see her mind mapping the escape routes for the event and herself from this weird guy in mourning suit.

“It’s a…it’s a _will_.”

“…A will?” she looks befuddled, and Yifan would like to consider that a positive reaction to his selfish request.

“Yes. Well, not formally. More like an invitation to a party,” he explains, trying to. But his smile makes the request even creepier. The girl chews on her lower lip, considering the danger of doing this one request from a what seemingly poor guy with unsound mind, and then probably decided _‘ah what the hell’_ and grabs the letter from Yifan’s hand.

“Is that all?” she asks, clearly not wanting to engage in a deeper conversation with him. Yifan sighs in relief, and bows almost at 90 degrees, thanking her relentlessly. She looks so flustered now, and Yifan finds it interesting to see that this girl actually doesn’t really know how to conceal her feelings from showing up on her face, despite her initial poker face earlier.

“Uh, I… I can’t promise you that this will get to his hand directly, for safety reasons since he had received a few contaminated gifts before. But I’ll, uh, put this together with the rest of the fan letters,” she assures him, more of like an obligation to be polite rather than really meaning it, but Yifan takes what he can get.

He bows one more time, thanking her again and then finally makes his way out of the hallway just the way he came in earlier – gaze only on his shoes, arms tucked in and, despite being visibly tall, he somehow managed to make himself looks smaller in the sea of people he’s leaving behind.

*

Yifan almost successfully convinced himself that the girl didn’t even put the letter within the rest of the fan letters as he walks back to Junmyeon’s empty apartment that night. He keeps on telling himself that it is alright if she didn’t; it’s not her responsibility to blindly trust a haggard-looking guy crashing a meet and greet event of a famous idol anyway. He just hopes that she didn’t throw the letter away, or worse, destroy it. He remembers the girl was saying something about a few ‘contaminated’ gifts they had received previously. He is about to turn the keys when his worries finally flood into his conscience.

_Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have done that. How could I be so careless with the letter? I knew the girl wasn’t so keen in helping me the first place, and now the letter is no more. It’s gone. I should have just kept the letters to myself, even though this means Junmyeon will be pissed at me for not keeping my promises. At least… at least…_

_At least I would still be holding on to a few pieces of Junmyeon left for me in this world._

The door to the apartment remains locked, and Yifan is now on his knees, silently panicking in front of it. He feels like weeping at his stupidity, as well as knocking some sense into himself so he won’t be thinking about being so selfish. But what’s wrong with being selfish? What’s wrong with being possessive about your lover? Junmyeon knew about this part of him, and he had loved Yifan through all his selfish acts anyway. Junmyeon would understand. Yes, Junmyeon won’t be mad at him.

“I… I should go take the letter back. M-maybe it’s still the dumpster behind the hotel…maybe…I should go—” he mumbles thoughtlessly, scrambling to stand back on his feet and ready to sprint when he feels his phone vibrates from inside his pocket.

 _A private number._ Yifan picks it up anyway since it could be one of Junmyeon’s distant relatives trying to reach him, even though he doubts the chance of that actually happening.

_(“I’m not lonely! I am loved by the people who matter, so I’m not alone,” Junmyeon would say with a giggle whenever the topic of family came to their dining table, but then he would still accept Yifan’s hand silently reaching for his, and his giggles would turn into a calming smile._

_Yifan would love to correct Junmyeon whenever he said that, because being alone and feeling lonely are two separate matters, but then Junmyeon would hold his hand tighter, and Yifan just couldn’t do it.)_

There is no greeting, no introduction and Yifan isn’t too keen in entertaining a random phone call like this, especially after an exhausting day, if it isn’t for the first question that is asked by the person on the other end.

_“How did he die?”_

“…He went to sleep, and just didn’t wake up… _is what I would like to say_ but no. It was an undetected aneurysm. He went into a coma for a month before passing.” Yifan sits back down in front of Junmyeon’s apartment’s door and leans back into the wooden texture. It is currently a bit too warm right here, in the hallway. It’s something that he never failed to point out to Junmyeon whenever he was here on weekends, and Junmyeon would just laugh and said that the air-cond is bad for the environment anyway.

 _“…How did you know it was me anyway? The envelope doesn’t even have my name written on it.”_ The other person is utterly confused by now, and Yifan somehow feels a small piece of the world’s weight on his shoulders were taken down the moment he heard the question. _The invitation had safely arrived in Oh Sehun’s hand, Junmyeon-ah. I did it._

“He told me about you. About the only person he had ever confessed to. It’s not so hard to narrow it down when you think about it, Oh Sehun,” he replies, chuckling as he puts his free ear on the wooden surface of the door.

It is so…silent.

*

The silence from the other side of the door scares him. It scared him the first night Junmyeon was sent to the hospital, and it scared him the night he locked it hastily after he got a call from the nurse, telling him to _come quickly, and I’m so, so sorry._

*

Yifan lives with his mother, and while she didn’t say anything about her son dating a guy, Yifan knows deep inside her heart, she had wished several times for Yifan to _‘return back to normal’_. And maybe it is her love for him that makes her tolerates him for who he is most of the time, so Yifan didn’t want to push her too far with Junmyeon.

Yifan knew she was hoping that this will be just a fling, that her son was just being curious and he’d snap out of it once it ends. She was probably hoping for the relationship to end within five weeks, top. But then five weeks turned into five months, and five months turned into five years. And then six. And then seven.

And then one day Yifan was letting her know that he’s getting a ring with the size of Junmyeon’s ring finger, and she just walked out from the living room.

Yifan waited for an hour, before she finally came out from her bedroom, her eyes red and wet with leftover tears.

 _“Just don’t leave me alone. He can have you, but please, don’t leave me alone in this house,”_ she had begged, and Yifan had called Junmyeon for advice. Without skipping a beat, Junmyeon told him that he was on the way.

This happened in winter last year, so Junmyeon was all bundled up in layers of cardigans and sweater and his favourite yellow scarf that he knitted himself. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and his glasses were foggy as he entered the warm single-storey house, and if it wasn’t for the seriousness of the situation, Yifan would have pulled him into an embrace right there and then.

But Junmyeon didn’t even bother to look at Yifan when he arrived. Instead, he went straight to the still sobbing mother in the middle of the living room and held her hands. Junmyeon had said that he’s not taking away her son, and Yifan doesn’t have to leave her alone in the house either.

Junmyeon had told her a part of his life that he never even told Yifan – that he had left his parents just because they were angry with him for being who he was, that he had given up on them before he even tried. He thanked Yifan’s mother for not saying bad words to the person he loved, unlike his parents had done, and that made her cry even harder.

 _“Thank you,”_ he had said, looking directly into her eyes and holding her hands tight, _“for loving Yifan all the same, even when he loves someone like me.”_

And then Junmyeon left, as Yifan was so scared that it would be the last time they’ll be seeing each other. But Junmyeon said _“see you tomorrow,”_ and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Yifan slept in the same bed as his mother that night, and he had hugged her tight. He was pretty sure he mumbled his apologies to her in his sleep because sometime in the early morning, she woke him up and told him to shut up. But her hand was warm as she patted his hair and forehead and cheek, and she had a smile on her face.

 _“Just make sure you have dinner with me whenever you can,”_ she whispered, and Yifan had forgotten the last time he had cried so hard that he was trembling in his mother’s lap.

Later that morning, as he was standing in front of Junmyeon’s door with a ring of Junmyeon’s size in his pocket, Yifan put his ear onto the wooden surface, and the sound of Junmyeon’s feet shuffling on the carpet, cleaning his place up and getting ready to spend the weekends with Yifan as they have done for the past seven years made him so happy inside.

Junmyeon was so alive on the other side of the door.

*

The silence is deafening from the other side of the door, and despite it being summer right now with a malfunctioning air-conditioning in the hallway, Yifan knows the apartment behind this door is cold.

“He said you were a famous junior back in high school. And you were friendly to everyone. So, he took a shot and sent you a love letter,” Yifan recalls, and the voice at the other end hums, acknowledging.

_“But I rejected him.”_

“Yeah, you did. Your loss, I bet,” Yifan teases, and the chuckles that he hears from the other person is almost like an apology. Yifan absent-mindedly traces the patterns on the carpet in the hallway he is sitting in with his long fingers, following the circular shapes and stirring up some clouds of dust in the process.

“But thank you, for doing it so kindly. For not saying mean things to him. He had lived his whole life having mean words thrown at him, even by strangers.”

_“…His whole life?”_

“Yeah.” A burst of laughter from the other side.

 _“How long were you two together?”_ Oh Sehun suddenly sounds weirdly cheerful, and while Yifan cannot really put a finger on what’s making him uncomfortable with the way he is being asked, he answers the question honestly.

“Nine years. Until his last breath.”

_“Pretty sure Junmyeon hyung didn’t really care about those mean words for the last nine years of his life, Mr Wu.”_

“…Huh?” is all that Yifan can say because to be honest, he doesn’t really know how to respond to that. Oh Sehun clears his throat, somehow he sounds more annoyed this time.

_“Anyways, thank you for reaching out to me. I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend the party, I hope you understand where I’m coming from.”_

“Yeah, it’s alright. My promise to him was just to get the letter to you in the first place. What happened after that is beyond my capability.”

_“You really…are as straight as a ruler, aren’t you?”_

“Sorry?”

_“You didn’t even open the envelope to check the letter, did you?”_

“I mean…it’s a letter addressed to you from Junmyeon. What’s sealed must’ve been a secret he didn’t want me to read,” Yifan states a-matter-of-factly, and this somehow elicits a peal of roaring laughter from Oh Sehun.

_“I can kinda see why he loved you. I’m kinda jealous.”_

“What?” Yifan asks again, getting slightly irritated with Oh Sehun’s talking in codes. But he is being ignored.

_“Goodbye, Mr Wu. And…I’m really sorry for your loss.”_

The call ends, and Yifan stays confused.

*

> _Hello, my first love!_
> 
> _If this letter comes into your possession, that means I’m already dead. And if you somehow got in contact with the person who delivered you this letter, you are ought to know that his name is Wu Yifan. He’s an IT programmer, a geek, a loyal son, a failure at cooking, loves cats, has an endless library of lame dad jokes inside his brain, a wonderful lover and yes, I’m bragging to you about my man, because I think it doesn’t matter how I died, knowing that he’s the one who’ll be thinking and dreaming about me for years to come somehow makes me feel alive. Hah. What an irony._
> 
> _Also, we were engaged (before my death, obviously), but he’s still scared to introduce me as his husband so if you please be so kind to let him know that he can introduce himself as my husband after this whenever he wants to talk about me in all of my past glory, that would be great._
> 
> _Thanks!_
> 
> _Yours Truly,_
> 
> _The Handsome Kim Junmyeon._

TBC


End file.
